


Call Me Anytime You've Got a Ghost

by ipanicdaily



Series: The Life and Times of Anthony Stark: Family Man [4]
Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Nightmares, Superfamily
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-02
Updated: 2012-08-02
Packaged: 2017-11-11 06:46:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/475720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ipanicdaily/pseuds/ipanicdaily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>If he couldn’t get Peter to settle in the bed and go back to sleep he’d get up and walk around the tower to show the boy that everything was okay. If it wasn’t too cold, Tony would go out onto the balcony and point to the various buildings lit up in the distance, making a little game out of it by misidentifying them every now and again just so Peter would correct him. It not only distracted Peter from whatever had scared him to begin with, but also made Peter happy being ‘smarter than Papa’. </i>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>in which Peter has another nightmare, Tony blames Clint for everything, and Steve sits back and smiles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Call Me Anytime You've Got a Ghost

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from the song [Your Legs Grow](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=myAWVXcgqhU) by Nada Surf, because I'm unoriginal like that.

When Peter was about four, he started having nightmares. At least three nights a week he’d wake in fear and seek the comfort of his fathers by climbing into their bed and forcing himself between them. If Tony was still in the lab, Steve would carry the frightened child down to him because when it came to nightmares, Tony was the best at comforting. 

He’d had his fair share of them, and helped Steve work through his when the lingering grip of PTSD struck and plagued him with images of his friends and comrades dying.

Peter loved Steve as much as he did Tony, the boy freaked out if either was gone too long for whatever reason, but it was obvious the boy preferred Tony’s presence when upset. Steve didn’t mind – in fact he would smile and give Tony that ‘I-told-you-so’ kind of look that he’d perfected from all the time Steve would have to tell Tony he would be a great father. 

So whenever Peter would come in the middle of the night with tears in his eyes, Tony would accept him with open, loving arms. 

If he couldn’t get Peter to settle in the bed and go back to sleep he’d get up and walk around the tower to show the boy that everything was okay. If it wasn’t too cold, Tony would go out onto the balcony and point to the various buildings lit up in the distance, making a little game out of it by misidentifying them every now and again just so Peter would correct him. It not only distracted Peter from whatever had scared him to begin with, but also made Peter happy being ‘smarter than Papa’. 

Other times when on the balcony Tony would pull a Mufasa and tell Peter, “Someday this will all be yours. The company, the tower – everything. And you’re going to be so much better at it than I ever was.” 

“You’re the best, Papa,” Peter would disagree with him. Tony would hold him a little bit tighter.

Each night was different and equally as troubling nonetheless. 

Tony and Steve were in bed with the lights off, though neither of them were asleep. Tony was lying on his back with one arm bent over his face while Steve was propped against some pillows with a book in hand. 

“You could have left the light on,” Tony muttered into the crook of his elbow.

“That’d be rude since you’re sleeping,” Steve answered, flipping a page.

“Obviously I’m awake,” Tony pointed out. “And rude is using the reactor as your personal nightlight.”

Steve hummed. “I like it,” he said simply.

“It’s bad for your eyes.”

“So is staring into a burning torch,” Steve countered. “Now be quiet and go to sleep. I’m reading.”

Tony scoffed. “Rude,” he muttered and went to turn to his side only to have Steve swat at him and force him to his back again. “Oh, right.” He rolled his eyes at the darkness outside the bluish glow.

A few short minutes passed before there was the unmistakable sobbing and rigid breathing that went from the door to right in front of Tony’s face in about three seconds flat. “Woah,” he said at first, startled and knocked of oxygen. “Hey, Peter, what’s wrong?” he asked after.

Peter cried into Tony’s neck, clinging to him desperately. 

Tony sighed and dropped his arm to rub at Peter’s back slow enough to be calming, but quick enough to try and evoke a response. “You can tell us. You’re safe here, remember?” 

“Don’ let ‘em g’me!” the boy cried.

Confused, Tony questioned, “Who get you?” to which the boy replied, “Grumins!” 

Beside Tony, Steve let out an audible sigh and corrected Peter with, “Gremlins.” He then supplied Tony with the whole story. “Some movie about these creatures that are cute and cuddly until you feed them after midnight which turns them evil.”

“I know what they are,” Tony replied. He watched movies. The real question was, “How does Peter know?”

Of course it was rather logical. “Clint,” Steve sad and it suddenly all made sense. “He wanted to show the movie to me and Thor, claiming it was a must-see classic.” He reached over and stroked the boy’s sweat-dampened hair. “Peter was supposed to be taking a nap, but I guess he snuck back in to watch too…” 

“I’m sorry, sir, I should have interfered,” Jarvis spoke up overhead. “I knew the young sir was still up.” 

Tony ignored his AI. “Peter, Gremlins aren’t real,” he said softly. No point scolding him for something that happened and that he was already being punished for. Not that Tony considered nightmares as acceptable punishment. He wouldn’t wish those on the worst of his enemies, let along his four-year-old son. 

“He’s going to throw up if he continues like this,” Steve said quietly. Peter was choking and gasping in irregular little puffs. Steve was right. “I’m going to get him some water. Can you try to get him to calm down so he doesn’t puke?” Steve asked as he shifted around to get up.

“Yeah,” Tony exhaled. What choice did he have? As Steve left, Tony carefully sat up and leaned forward so Peter was in his lap despite the boy’s attempts to be wrapped around Tony. “You have to relax, buddy,” he said, resting his cheek on Peter’s head, “Or you’re going to make yourself sick.”

The lights in the room came on on the dimmest setting thanks to Jarvis, and Tony blinked his eyes to adjust regardless. He silently thanked his AI. 

Peter wasn’t letting up though and Tony cursed Clint because he always managed to cause trouble. When it wasn’t Tony creating mischief, it was Clint, and either way Tony liked to blame the archer. He should know better than to watch such things when Peter was around. Especially knowing Peter hasn’t been good about taking naps lately. 

Tony scooped Peter’s small body up and left the bed, adjusting the boy to his side and walking around the room a few times while waiting for Steve to return. He had Jarvis remove the blinders from the windows to show Peter the city, but the boy kept his face pressed firmly into Tony’s collarbone. He was beginning to ease up if only from wearing himself out. 

The frequency and intensity of the boys nightmares was getting troublesome. 

Steve returned with a sippy-cup of water that they kept solely for these situations because Peter would only dump the water on himself and start crying all over again if he didn’t have a lid. It took some coaxing to get Peter to pull away enough to accept the cup and take a drink – Steve stroking their son’s hair again as Tony kept rubbing large circles on his back. 

Peter sucked in short breaths through his nose with his mouth clamped over the plastic nozzle; large brown eyes blinking away tears. He looked from Tony to Steve, realizing that he wasn’t in any immediate danger and began to relax even more. 

“You’re okay,” Steve told the boy softly as he brushed away tears and kissed Peter’s head. When the boy finished with his drink he handed gave it back to his father and laid his head on Tony’s shoulder. Every few breaths would stagger as his body readjusted, and he gradually loosened his grip on Tony until his arms hung limply at his sides instead. 

“I’m going to try and get him back to sleep,” Tony said as the boy calmed.

Steve nodded, sitting down on the bed. “If he’s not down in an hour, come back,” the blond told him. “You need sleep too.”

“I get plenty of sleep,” Tony defended.

Steve just sort of smiled as he said, “When you’re up all night you get extra bitchy and fall asleep during the day. Usually during important things like debriefings.” 

“Fury’s boring.” Tony shrugged. “And I’m not ‘bitchy.” He frowned. 

Steve continued smiling.

Tony scoffed and handed over Peter. “Say ‘goodnight’ to your son,” he muttered.

Now calm, Peter allowed himself to be passed from Tony’s arms to the stronger embrace of his other father. He hugged Steve and gave a quiet, “’Night, Daddy,” followed by a small sniffle. 

“Goodnight, little man,” Steve replied. He kissed Peter’s head again as he hugged the boy close. “Only happy dreams now, right?” Peter slowly nodded. 

They stayed like that a few moments because Peter really did love Steve too, and it was easiest to see at times like this. Peter needed Steve as much as he did Tony, just in a different way. Tony knew from experience that Steve gave the best hugs – not only because of his strength, but because Steve could put more love in the simple gesture than most people had in their bodies. 

And sometimes a hug was exactly what a person really needed. Hugs showed that someone cared, that you are loved and protected. And that was precisely what Peter needed right now. 

Peter eventually pulled away and went back to Tony. They never pushed him. Sometimes he’d hug Steve for a minute or two, and sometimes for fifteen or twenty minutes. It was always up to Peter to decide when he could let go because it depended on when he was comfortable enough to withdraw. Otherwise there were always willing arms available. 

As Peter settled back against Tony, Tony leaned down to give Steve a kiss; soft and loving. “One hour,” Steve reminded when Tony stood straight.

“Yes mom.” Tony rolled his eyes and turned around to head for Peter’s bedroom.

“You’re the woman in this relationship,” Steve teased. “Everyone agrees!” 

Steve laughed as Tony discreetly gave him the finger.

Peter’s room was only a few doors down the hall, and probably larger than any young child should have. But the tower was sort of a representation of Tony’s ego, so there weren’t any small rooms. Plush, with all the crap they were always buying the boy, the space was filled quickly.

Like in the center was Peter’s bed. Tony blamed Clint for that one, too, since the archer was adamant that was the best bed for a young boy. (“Every kid wants a racecar bed, Tony!”) And while most kids had one made of plastic or wood, Peter’s was an actual racecar. Or what used to be one, mostly hollowed out to fit a mattress because Tony knew people, okay? 

“Look around your room,” Tony instructed, “Do you see anything scary?” Hesitantly, Peter lifted his head and looked around. After a few minutes he shook his head. “Really? Because I still don’t understand how that stupid clown doesn’t freak you out.”

“Clowns aren’t scary,” Peter mumbled. “They’re funny.” 

Tony huffed and scowled at the creepy doll in the corner before bringing Peter to his bed. He set the boy down then grabbed the frame and worked himself down into the cramped space, shoving one of Peter’s pillows behind his head so it wasn’t digging into metal. It caused his neck to bend at an uncomfortable angle, and he would have cramps in most of his muscles soon, but the things you do for your children. 

Things Howard certainly never did for him.

Peter curled up against Tony, resting his head on Tony’s chest and directly over the reactor. Tony stopped trying to understand why it was the boy’s favorite spot to make into a pillow a few years ago when it was the only way to soothe him as a baby. 

Streams of blue painted Peter’s face and his fingers idly brushed along the plastic edges of the circle. “Tell me ‘bout when you met Daddy,” Peter quietly requested. 

“Well,” Tony took a deep breath, “It was a few years before we got you. There was a really bad man named Loki trying to take over the world.” 

“Uncle Thor’s brother,” Peter supplied.

“Yeah,” Tony dryly laughed, “Thor’s brother. _Adopted_ brother,” he then added. Thor still proudly claimed Loki as his own kin. 

“Anyway, I was originally never supposed to be an Avenger. I was only going to help when they needed me. And when Loki was in Germany trying to control the people there, I was needed.” He’s told Peter the story before many times. He never included the parts about Clint being under Loki’s influence, or Phil nearly dying, or how he himself almost died. Peter didn’t need to know all the details. 

“Your Daddy was in Germany when I got there, taking on Loki alone with only his hands.”

“And it was love at first sight!”

Tony laughed. “It was something,” he replied. “We captured Loki and took him to the Hellicarrier…” Tony continued on recounting the tale that had changed his life in ways he had never imagined. He didn’t tell Peter how he wanted to rip Steve’s throat out at one point, only that they didn’t agree at first, and eventually fell in love and adopted him.

Tony never realized that Steve was standing just outside the room the entire time with a smile, listening to the man turn a terrible event into a cute little bedtime story. And when about halfway through Tony put himself to sleep, Steve went in to pull the blanket over both his boys.

“Absolutely love at first sight,” he whispered to Tony; turning off the light and going back to their bed where he didn’t mind sleeping alone, because Tony was exactly where he belonged.

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone has a suggestion for this series, let me know @itabi (twitter) or through tumblr at yournewdejavu or ipanicdaily :)


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